


Warmth

by angel_ponders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_ponders/pseuds/angel_ponders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean feels as though his soul is worthless.  Castiel convinces him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for this prompt at the Waffathon: Dean doesn't think his soul is anything to write home about, so Cas tries to describe it to him.

Dean jerked awake from another Hell related nightmare gasping for air and clutching at his chest. The dreams were coming less frequent now, but they were still jarring and physically painful. He’d wake up in a sweat with his heart pounding and his breath ragged like he’d just run a marathon. It would take a moment for the dream itself to flood back to it and when it did it took all of Dean’s willpower to stop himself from throwing up. This time was no different. The dream, well, a memory, really, of the first time he picked up the knife…

“Dean.” The hunter jumped at the sound of Cas’ voice.

“Christ!” he shouted as he clutched onto his chest. His heart rate was even higher than it was after waking up from the nightmare and he was sure it was going to just explode at some point in the near future. He took a moment to compose himself trying his best to will his breathing back to a normal rhythm. He looked around the room to try and figure out what time it was. No Sam. Sunlight in the windows. No sound in the bathroom. He must be getting breakfast or coffee or something or maybe Dean had slept in way too late or…

“He’s at the diner down the road. It’s nearly 9:00am.”

“What’d I tell you about poking around in my head, Cas?” When Dean felt that his heart rate was down at a somewhat normal rate he shifted so that his back was against the headboard. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now so he might as well make himself comfortable.

“How else am I to understand you if you won’t verbalize your concerns to me?”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Don’t know why you want to understand me so bad anyway...”

“You’re my charge,” Castiel said as if it explained everything.

“I’m your assignment,” Dean snapped.

“You’re more than that, Dean,” Cas said as he tilted his head, obviously confused by Dean’s reaction. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”

Dean just shook his head. Cas was insistent. He had to give him that. Sometimes it really seemed like Cas cared. He asked questions, showed concern, just generally seemed interested in all things Dean Winchester. But he had to remember that he was just an assignment. He was the ‘righteous man’- whatever the fuck that meant- whose damaged and battered soul was pulled from the pit. It couldn’t have been a job that anyone would have volunteered for. Who’d want to touch a soul so damaged-

“Dean...” Castiel had somehow scooted closer to him on the edge of the bed. Dean had been so lost in his own thought he hadn’t really noticed. “Your soul isn’t damaged.”

“Dammit, Cas. Stop it with the mind reading.”

Before Dean could say another word Cas’ hand was on his chest. The touch was light, fingers just barely pressing against the fabric of his shirt, but the intensity in his eyes as he looked at where his fingers were touching was overpowering. Once again Dean’s heart rate spiked, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. He wasn’t sure what Castiel was doing, but he trusted him. Even stranger, he found himself enjoying the closeness. He wasn’t quite sure why, though.

“I can see it…”

“What… see what?”

“Your soul.” Castiel spread his fingers across Dean’s chest slightly. “It’s bright. It’s intensity is almost blinding. Holding your soul within my grace was the most profound experience in my entire existence…” When Castiel met Dean’s eyes he pulled his hand back slightly and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry… forgive me…”

“No,” Dean said as he grabbed Castiel’s hand before he could pull it away. “It’s ok…” Dean coughed nervously, hoping to remove any sentimentality from his voice. He knew his voice had been nearly quivering before, but sentimentality wasn’t his strong suit. “I mean, getting resurrected from the dead was a pretty fucking profound experience to me too I just… I can’t understand…”

Dean couldn’t verbalize what he wanted to say so he just let the feeling of worthlessness wash over him. Cas seemed keen on poking around in his head. I’m worthless. I’m damaged. I've tortured. I’m horrible. I’m no better than a demon. I…

Cas pushed his palm more firmly against Dean’s chest, using the apparent invitation to his advantage to get close to soul he so strongly appreciated. He caressed Dean gently through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

“Your soul is the most beautiful energy I’ve ever seen. As we stormed Hell I saw it shining brightly through the smoke and fire and I wanted to be close to you. You were not assigned to me. I saw you and… and I wanted to protect you. I wanted to take you and hold you and love you. I…” Castiel paused for a moment as if trying to find the right words.

Suddenly Cas had bent over and resting his head against Dean’s chest. Dean wasn’t sure what to do, but his instincts told him to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. When his hands found a comfortable resting spot on Cas’ back he was surprised at how natural it felt. It seemed like Castiel belonged there snug against his chest… close to his soul… His felt warm. He felt happy. He felt…

“Cas…”

“I don’t know how you can think so little of something I hold so dear.”

Dean was overwhelmed and once again at a loss for words. He kissed the top of his head and held him firmly, feeling that it was the only thing he could do to express himself. Whatever strange bond had formed when grace and soul met, it seemed to comfort them both when the two were brought near one another. Dean couldn’t remember his encounter with Castiel before he’d been resurrected. He wished he could. If it felt anything like this…

“It felt better,” Castiel said. For once Dean didn’t mind Cas poking around in his head. It was almost easier this way. “Someday I’ll hold your soul again. But not now.”

Castiel gently kissed Dean’s chest and sat up straight again. When their eyes met again Dean couldn’t help but lean in and press a kiss against Cas’ lips. He didn’t care if this was some huge taboo. He didn’t care if Cas was an angel in a dude’s body or any of that crap. He just wanted that closeness again. Cas’ hand was bunched up in the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer and Dean just let it happen because it was right. It was perfect. It was how it was supposed to be.

When they pulled out of the kiss they just looked at each other. Dean still wasn’t sure his soul was worth a damn, but he knew what it meant to Castiel at least. Whatever this feeling was, it was wonderful and Dean wanted more of it. And somehow he felt certain that there would be more. Whatever this was, Castiel wanted it too. That much was obvious. And for that, Dean was extremely grateful.


End file.
